


A Germy Hero

by BotchedExperiment



Series: LazyTown more like Hurt/Comfort Town [12]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Fluff, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Sneezing, dont look at me i'm hideous, more snot than necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 16:10:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotchedExperiment/pseuds/BotchedExperiment
Summary: Even sick as a dog, Sportacus refuses to stay in bed. Robbie has to deal with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for a starter prompt on tumblr
> 
> there may be a second part  
> idk we'll see how much trash i really am pfft

“You’ve been sniffling for ten minutes. Just blow your nose!”

Robbie throws a box of tissues toward the bedridden hero.

The box barely even makes it onto the bed and Sportacus stares at it, possibly judging Robbie's horrible aim. He seems to think about it (as if there's a reason to stop and consider _anything_ that will stop his nose from visibly running) before finally pulling out a handful and expelling the troubling contents from his nasal passages. Robbie winces.

God forbid that Sportacus, the town hero, takes a sick day. The world would absolutely _fall_ _apart_ at the mere thought of it! It would be the end of LazyTown as we all know it. But most of all, God forbid that the man blows his nose when he needs to.

Robbie sighs.

He'd watched Sportacus sniffling and sneezing and coughing allover LazyTown. The hero looked woozy and tired while he played with the kids, like he could fall from exhaustion right there in the center of the sports field. He dragged his boyfriend straight to bed, despite the incredibly weak protests he received. Robbie knew one thing, though, and that was that he shouldn’t have been able to physically make Sport do anything at all, he could never, making him sort of wonder if Sportacus was just waiting for Robbie to show up and 'rescue' him.

Now he sits in bed, looking sick and pitiful, nose an alarming shade of red.

Sportacus gives a sad sniff. Robbie groans. Staying in bed has gotten him all down and discouraged. No wonder he went to play with the kids while he was sick, he couldn’t do something that made him feel useless like staying in bed and waiting for his body to fight a brutal cold. He's quiet, too. Way too quiet.

"Don’t give me that sad puppy look," Robbie complains when the bright blue eyes tug at his heart. "You're sick! Being sick means resting and getting better! Isn't that what you're always telling the kids?"

"Yes, but…" Sportacus runs his wrist under his nose. "I just hate that I can't do anything is all. What if someone needs help?"

"I would hope that people have enough sense to stay out of trouble when they hear that you're ill and can't save them from badly-placed skateboards today."

Sportacus doesn’t look so sure, but his skepticism is quickly replaced by a far-away look, nose twitching. A look Robbie has come to recognize pretty easily today.

The hero's hands steeple over his nose and mouth as he lets out a wet sneeze. He stays there, still, hands still covering his face as he sniffles. He looks desperately at Robbie, who gets the message. He reaches for the tissues, pulling a few out and holding them in front of Sportasnot.

The hero snatches them hastily. "Thank you," he mumbles.

For the sake of the man's dignity, Robbie looks away while Sportacus blows his nose.

"Ugh, this is gross."

Robbie snorts. "Tell me about it," he says as he presses a kiss to Sport's forehead.

\-----

It's day two of Sportacus' 'quarantine' (as Robbie has enjoyed calling it), and the hero is as restless as ever. Robbie's sent him back to bed twice already and it's still light out.

Soon to be three times, it seems.

Robbie doesn’t even turn his head away from the stove. He can hear the sneaky footsteps, the bottom of a blanket being dragged across the floor.

He doesn’t have enough energy left in him to properly scold his boyfriend. "I said that I'd bring dinner to you. Go back to bed," He says tiredly.

"I'm tired of being in bed, Robbie. I need to move around!"

Robbie hears a crash. And a groan. He inhales and exhales deeply through his nose before turning around to observe the damage.

Three times he's gotten out of bed. Three times he's tried to jump or flip. Three times he's ended up on the ground because his body is screaming that it can't do that flippity stuff right now and Sportacus refuses to listen.

Sportacus picks himself up from a pile of scrapped inventions, wavering dangerously. Robbie rushes over and grips his arm until he regains his balance.

"You'll end up sick _and_ injured if you're not careful, you know." Robbie picks up the abandoned blanket from the ground and drapes it around Sportacus, who quickly grips at it.

Sportacus nods admittedly. "I know."

Robbie sits him at the kitchen table. At least this way he can keep an eye on the overactive blue kangaroo. His attention goes back to the soup, which is lucky because it's nearly boiling over. He shrieks and rushes to stir it.

"Do you need help, Robbie? I can do something." He sounds awful. Robbie isn't letting him or his germs go anywhere near any sort of food preparation.

"Sit. Down." Robbie says as soon as he hears the chair legs scrape the ground. "I have everything under control!" he pulls the pan from the burner and continues stirring, using the other hand to grab a couple of bowls and spoons. He nearly dumps the boiling soup over the front of his shirt, but manages to get it steady before that disaster happens.

Soon, both of them have some warm soup sitting in front of them.

Robbie catches Sportacus wince with every swallow. He had hoped that his cold would start to get better, but the hero seems to have woken with a cough and sore throat along with everything else wrong with him. He sneezes into the crook of his arm and rubs at his nose with a sniff, the steam probably getting to him. H

"This is the last can of soup," Robbie informs between mouthfuls. "And you need medicine of some kind. A fever reducer maybe?" And maybe, just _maybe_ , some sportscandy would do him good. "So I might go shopping later if you swear on your dumb goggles that you won't do something stupid while I'm gone."

Sportacus looks up from his bowl, eyes wide and… hopeful? "You're going shopping?"

"…Yes?"

"Can I go too?"

"No."

"Robbie, I'm dying to get out and do something. I'm sure it won't be long anyway!" Oh, oh no. There's that smile Robbie can't say no to.

"You're running a temperature and- and you're all germy! And snotty!" He sputters uselessly.

"Please!"

Robbie narrows his eyes.

\-----

"You should really be at home resting." Robbie glances at Sportacus as they walk into the store. He's the absolute picture of illness. Pale and flushed at once, sweaty, clad in nothing but sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt, nose red and irritated.

"I needed to get out and do something, Robbie," Sportacus practically whines. His sentence is punctuated by a nasty cough muffled in the crook of his arm.

This was a bad idea. Robbie already knows that this was a bad idea. Why did he agree to this?

_"I will just practice my push-ups while you're gone!"_

Ah, that's why. Sportacus is pretty darn manipulative for a hero, and Robbie isn't too keen on coming home to a broken elf.

Robbie's busy deciding on the best kind of medicine for Sportacus' condition when he hears a sharp intake of breath from his left.

"Get a tissue, Sport!"

The reminder is all Sportacus needs to remember to grab a tissue from his pocket and press it to his nose in time for the explosion. He stands still, snuffling. "Thank you," He breathes out before blowing his nose, wiping the underside with the abused tissue before stuffing it back in his pocket.

He sniffles wetly, eyes red and watering. This cold is definitely getting worse.

That's why they're at the store in the first place, because they're out of medicine, and soup and-

"Tissue!" Robbie urges, but Sportacus is lost to the tickle. Without thinking, Robbie hastily clamps his hand over the man's face and braces for impact.

The sneeze is wet and gross but - hilariously enough -  Robbie's used to it by now.

Sportacus' eyes widen, hand replacing Robbie's over his nose while his other searches for a clean tissue. Finally, he finds the last one in his pocket and cleans his face. "That wasn’t necessary…"

"Oh, yes it was."

And tissues. They're out of tissues.

Robbie is thankful that no one is around the pharmacy area to see what a disaster their hero is right now.

"We should get you home before you spread your plague to all of LazyTown." He's only half joking.

Sportacus nods in agreement. "I think I'm ready to lie down anyway."

If Robbie didn't already know that he felt horrible, that sentence would have sent alarms blaring. He's not about to deny rest to the man who's been nothing but difficult and restless for two days. The sooner they get out of there, the sooner he can put the sick guy to bed, the less time Sportacus has to argue about it.

"In that case, let's just grab and go." Robbie says decidedly, and that's exactly what he does. He pulls everything they need off of their shelves in record time, Sportacus slowly dragging behind.

Medicine, tissues (the soft kind, because he's miserable enough without a sorer nose), and finally they reach the soup aisle.

By this time, Sportacus has gone quiet and slowed down, the only noise from him being the occasional sniffle or a weak cough muffled in his arm because he's afraid to cough productively and draw attention.

"Soup?"

Sportacus nods.

"What kind, love?" Robbie sighs sympathetically. He knows Sportacus is just ready to go home, that he's tired and miserable and embarrassed. But they need soup.

"Oh, right," Sportacus shakes his head to clear it of the fog. "Um. Vegetable?"

Of course. Why does he bother asking?

 

Robbie nods and grabs a few cans of vegetable soup. And then a couple cans of salty, noodle-y goodness for himself because he's not gonna eat vegetable soup, no sir that's gross.

"Sorry. I'm just tired."

Aw.

Robbie presses a kiss to his forehead. "I know. We're done now."

The checkout line isn't long but it's very slow. Robbie taps his foot impatiently while Sportacus is looking more tired and awful by the minute.

Suddenly, he sends Robbie a desperate, distressed look as his nose twitches. He rubs at it violently to quell the itch, a small wet squishing sound making itself known, but it's not use. They both know that they're out of tissues, so Sportacus has no choice but to cover with his hand and hope for the best.

The sneeze is a quick gush, making his eyes water. But he's not done.

Uh oh. Robbie tenses. This isn't going to go well.

Sportacus sneezes again. And then another sharp inhale and the last sneeze tumbles out. He's sniffling rapidly. When that doesn’t work, he resorts to using his sleeve, which already looks a little damp.

Sportacus' eyes fix themselves on the ground insecurely and Robbie realizes why.

Everyone is looking right at him. No one says a thing, no one looks disgusted. Just amazed that their town hero is capable of being so ill and... human.

\-----

Sportacus is ready leave as soon as Robbie has their bags in-hand. And possibly never come back.

"That was awful!" He groans when they're safely in the lair. Robbie passes him one of the new boxes of tissues and Sport wastes no time making use of them. His nose and upper lip is a glistening mess and Robbie pretends not to notice.

"Come on, no one's going to care. You're Sportacus!"

"Which is why I-!" He stops. He doesn't need to finish, anyway.  _Which is why he should be the picture of perfect health no matter what._ Robbie sighs and shakes his head. This guy, sometimes…

A strong sneeze sneaks out into the handful of tissues. It sounds like a something he's been holding back since his last fit, on their way home, on their way into the bunker.

"I think I'm going to go lie down," He says, finally a hint of exhaustion in his voice, having lost the fight with his body.

"Wait, really?"

\-----

Sportacus pulls the blankets to his chin and shudders. Robbie doesn’t like it one bit. He sits on the of the bed, cupping Sportacus' cheek. It's hot, just like he assumed it would be. Warmer than before. Sportacus recoils at his cold fingers, gently pulling Robbie's hand away and holding it instead.

"You were right," Sportacus says, and Robbie decides that he needs his ears checked. "I really - _snf_ \- shouldn’t have…" he trails off. "I feel worse."

Robbie grabs the medicine and hands him a couple of pills and a glass of water. The sooner they can deal with this fever, the sooner Sportacus can feel better.

"Are you tired?"

"Awfully."

"Are you going to stay in bed for the rest of the evening?"

"Of course."

"Well, maybe the trip to the store did its job then."

Sportacus gives a congested laugh. "Robbie!"

"Just take your medicine, Sportasick."


End file.
